A Special Occasion
by Sophia

The crimson threads ripped easily in my shaking hands. My uneven breath seemed to echo against the clean, white walls as I sank onto my knees with the dress clenched against my chest. Another surge of anger went through me and the familiar, uncontrollable urge to tear the silk to shards overtook me.

I could still envision it hanging on her beautiful shoulders, though she’d never actually worn it. Dark red, with rose colored trim in front. Plain and classy, as she liked things. It wasn’t particularly expensive, because then she didn’t have money like that. But it was for me. Picked for what she imagined would be a night we’d always remember.

I asked her once to wear it. There was no party or dinner that night, only her and me, alone, in love.

“Justin,” she’d said, her voice tinged with a tone I couldn’t entirely understand. “You know I’m saving this for a special occasion.”

“Right,” I’d said. “I know.” I guess I didn’t know. I imagined there would be a night when she would pull it out of the closet and say that the special occasion had come. It never happened.

Somehow as time went on, I thought more and more about making sure there would be any occasion, and less and less about the perfect night. I guess it had been December. Not quite Christmas, but close enough that my senses had that tingle sending chills down my spine as I walked through downtown. Everything bustling, chubby fingers attached to mommies and wind blowing at the bright colored parkas.

I was only slightly uncomfortable in the woman’s section of Macy’s. I wasn’t even sure of her size. I was only sure of how I wanted her to feel. It must have been almost six o clock before I found the gift. It was so delicate, a lace slip. I hoped she wouldn’t think it was too much. I fingered it, then checked the price and prepared to spend a good chunk of the month’s paycheck.

“Justin?” I whirled around, instinctively hiding it behind my back as I imagined my buddies laughing. It was Britney. “What are you doing?” She looked weary of me, the whole situation, everything. I could tell she’d had a bad day from her tired eyes and the way she was standing. “Justin!” I blinked and gave a short laugh.

“It’s- um, Britney-” I couldn’t just say it. Couldn’t say I was only trying to buy her a gift. She was just standing there, looking at the gift in my hands. It was so quiet for the longest time. There was the cheap sound of Christmas music coming from a scratchy stereo above us. She finally looked up. Her cheeks were bright pink and I could tell she wasn’t sure if she should cry or not.

I felt disgusting. Helpless. I hadn’t done anything wrong, and yet it looked the worst. She swallowed a couple of times and sucked in a breath, glaring at me. I looked at the floor and stood there until she was gone. That night she didn’t come home.

It was like that. For the next couple of months I felt something was always off balance. We were never safe, never secure with each other. There were times when I couldn’t imagine ever being without her, and then there were those when I was the one not coming home.

She moved out in April. Two weeks ago, actually. The process made me sick. When I would hear her car door slam outside followed by the moving truck I would leave, my heart beating and my hands shaking.

She hadn’t come around recently. I guessed she wasn’t worried about the one item she had forgotten, left crumpled in the closet for me to find.

I sucked in a breath and wiped away the tears I didn’t know I was crying. I missed her so much. The way she smiled, the way she smelled, the way she looked into my eyes as she told me she loved me.

“Justin?” I jumped and gasped shakily, dropping the torn dress on the floor. There she was. In front of me, so put together, so beautiful. Looking at me with pity and something else I couldn’t read. Suddenly I was so angry, so embarrassed, so hateful towards her and everything she meant to me. I turned and entered our-my room. I think I slammed the door.

The lock turned slowly and her hands circled my wrists. I couldn’t look up. I felt her hand reach up and gently wipe my face, then tip my chin up to look at her. She was holding the dress in her other hand.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “About the dress-” She shook her head slowly and reached in to me, putting her arms around my neck and holding on briefly. My heart was beating so fast. I don’t know what I thought. I stood there numbly. Her voice came suddenly and softly in my ear.

“Justin,” she said in an uneven voice, “I’m so sorry…” She took a deep breath and pulled away. “I’m sorry I never wore the dress while we had…special occasions. I hope you can forgive me.” I didn’t move. She turned and left.